Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 108342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
She laughed at that. “Sounds personal. Don’t knock the hustle.” Picking a piece of lint from her sweater, she set it on the corner of the clear coffee table. “I kinda like that some young people, and older ones, too, are figuring out how to make money that doesn’t require the typical nine to five. This wave may not last forever, but the lesson in this is that there’s more than one way to make a dime nowadays.”
“But they’re not financially literate.”
“And how do you know that? Did you speak personally to their accountant?”
He rolled his eyes and scoffed. “They’re fuckin’ eighteen! What guy or girl in that age frame do you know that could be handed a million dollars and not use it foolishly? They run through their money like it’s the fifty-yard dash at the Olympics. Waste it. They do goofy crap for clicks and views. The titles will be clickbait, ya know? Read like, ‘I was attacked by a bear!’” He sat beside her on the loveseat, facing the unlit fireplace. “Then you click on it, and it would just be one of their equally dumb ass influencer friends dressed as Winne the Pooh, shooting gummy bears at their head through a toy pellet gun.”
Porsche burst out laughing and nodded. “People like that mess though. It works, but yeah, it starts to wear on you. I can’t disagree with you there. You have a choice not to watch it though, Mr. Grumpy. So, uh,” she tilted her head to the side, causing her tresses to flow down onto her arm. “What have you been up to today?”
“Dinner should be here in about ten minutes. I’m having it delivered, by the way.”
“I was wondering why I didn’t smell any food. What are we having?” She leaned back against a pillow, real comfortable and relaxed like.
“Turkish. There’s this Turkish spot I like. You ever had that? If so, do ya like Turkish food?”
“I have had Turkish food… and yes, I enjoyed it the one time that I recall. I had a… what is it called? I know, a kebab, and I also had Baklava for dessert.”
“Okay, great. So, uh, you asked me what I’ve been up to today before I started explaining the dinner arrangements. Lately, I’ve been working on some custom stuff, but it’s nothin’ exciting.” He threw up his hands. “A guy in Bar Harbor has a vintage Camaro and it was missing a few parts. He asked if I could recreate some of the screws, versus him trying to track them down and buy them used. So, I’m doing it. Brand new rivets on an old car. Pretty cool, I guess.”
“Wow… you do it all, huh? Custom jewelry, nails and bolts, car parts. Own a nice shop I have yet to be invited to… That’s amazing.”
He shrugged. “It’s nothin.’ And you can come by anytime.”
“Yes it is something! If not, almost everyone in the world would be doing it. We can’t. That makes you special. It’s a gift. That’s the definition of talent. You have something exceptional you can provide to others, a service not everyone can deliver. Like this.” She reached into her shirt and pulled out the pendant he’d made for her. He smiled, moved that she’d put it on her, attached to a delicate silver chain. “It looks so realistic… like a real tiny lighthouse. All this attention to detail…” She held the pendant and looked down at it, admiration in her eyes.
“It looks good on you.” He leaned forward and stroked her cheek.
“Thank you… it’s really nice. I appreciate it more than you know.”
He leaned in closer, then a bit more and grazed his lips against hers. He closed his eyes as he felt her warmth and tasted her sweetness on his mouth. Peppermint candy. When he opened his eyes, she was staring at him with those big dark brown, almond-shaped orbs of hers. Thick lashes framed them… So pretty. He lowered his lips to her mouth once again, this time lingering there. Much longer. The heat between them set him ablaze with desire. With a gentle hand against his chest, she put a little distance between them.
“I have something to tell you,” she said.
“What?”
“You’ve been removed from the suspect list. Aren’t you going to offer me something to drink, Nikolai? What kind of host are you? A bad one. That’s what kind.” She chuckled.
He stared at her, unsure if she could read his mind. Certainly the four-letter-words it was tossing her way like darts penetrated her thick skin. “So, you’re just gonna say something like that, something that monumental and serious, then talk to me about drinks all nonchalantly?”
“What?” she said indignantly, then blinked several times and placed her hand dramatically across her chest as if she’d been deeply wounded by his words. He shook his head and fell back onto the couch, arms outstretched.